THE DEVIL WENT DOWN TO KANSAS
WOW: life. Sam's really questioning his life...
Disclaimer: I don't own them
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"Dean, have you been eating that Ghost pepper jerky again?" Sam asked casually.
"Wha… yeah. How'yoo…no…?"
"Just a hunch Dean. The red face, sweating, tears and the fact that your tongue has swollen to the size of Manhattan was the giveaway."
"It's his faul…" Dean grunted, thumbing over his shoulder to an empty space next to him.
"His?" Sam parroted in confusion; "whose?"
"Mine," Lucifer answered as he materialised. "I believe Dean said this morning to you 'Satan himself couldn't eat these things', and I couldn't let that go. I am the lord of hellfire, after all."
Sam knuckled his brow wearily and wondered how his life had come to this; his brother and the Devil having a pepper-eating pissing contest in the kitchen.
"So," he sighed; "could you eat them?"
"Of course," Lucifier replied airily, ignoring Dean's side eyed, watery glare; "look at me, fresh as a daisy compared to 'Sweaty' here."
Dean's eyes narrowed dangerously. "Yeah, well … I han't been in the baf'oom standin' un'er a col' shower for the las' half hour. C'n I haf a turn now?"
Lucifer nodded with a petulant grunt.
Sammy, he sighed; "I always knew there was a reason I liked you the best."
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